


Lilac

by Maioiko



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Airplane, F/M, Romance, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maioiko/pseuds/Maioiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~*~The Berlin Blockade~*~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lilac

"Let 'er rip!” a boisterous voice shouts over the rumbling and creaking of airplanes. After yanking a lever he watches—from the dirty goggles shielding his baby-blue orbs—various candies fall to the waiting people below. Since the group of planes are about twenty feet from the ground, he can easily see the eyes of the children twinkle with delight. A feeling of felicity fills him. “Yo, dad!” he calls out to a British plane ahead of his American. “I'm going in for a landing! Gotta clean my goggles!”  
  
“Very well; be careful, America!” a thickly-accented voice answers.  
  
While the rest of the planes swerve to the right and upward, the young man's plane lands perfectly on an uninhabited road. America jumps out of the plane and takes his goggles (replacing them with glasses), gloves and pilot hat off, placing them carefully on the left wing. After observing his surroundings, he whips out a Hershey's candy bar from his bomber jacket pocket. “O~h sweet mother of all chocolates: prepare to enter my hungry stomach!”  
  
Before he can begin unwrapping the delicious snack, he hears light footsteps running toward him. He whips around after stuffing the candy bar back in his pocket. Catching the eyes of the person before him, he's rendered breathless and his pupils widen.  
  
He can instantly tell she's not human, but a country like him. Her eyes are such a deep navy blue that they will certainly look black from a distance, but nevertheless the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen. Her shoulder-length, _very_ light brown hair sparkles in the late afternoon sun that also makes her peachy skin look softer than a baby's. Her dress reaches her ankles: the shoulders, forearms, and from chest to waist is covered in a lacy-white fabric, while a blue apron-like cover goes from the waist to the bottom trim. The dress itself is black with two stripes going around the bottom—one dark orange, the other light. Her feet are covered in fancy, black Mary-Jane look-alike shoes, then white socks finish off the outfit.  
  
Alfred sighs with a small smile. “H..hey,” he gains some self-control and forces his smile to grow into a happy-go-lucky grin.  
  
“ _Guten Abend... wie heissen Sie_?” she inquires. Her voice is soft, but her accent is deeply woven in her words.  
  
“ _Ich heisse_ Alfred F. Jones... _ich bin der Held!_ ” He laughs a bit more weaker than usual. _What's happening to me? I can't even laugh correctly! This is weird._ “ _Und Sie_?”  
  
She giggles, “ _Ich bin die Jasmin Beilschmidt_. Considering you didn't say _der_ Alfred, and by your plane, you're a native English speaker, _ja_?”  
  
“ _J-Ja_... er, yes.” Alfred clears his throat, gaining some confidence. “I'm one-hundred percent American, dudette!”  
  
Her thin, pink lips stretch into a smile. “I just... wanted to thank you, personally, for everything you're doing for my little brother, Berlin. He's been really down lately ever since the division. Then after the Russians cut off the supply of essentials, he didn't know what to do. So... thank you. You really are a hero... l-like you said.”  
  
His face flames, “Y-Yeah! No problem!” He remembers the candy bar in his pocket—he fishes it out and holds it in front of himself. “Here... I was going to eat it, but you need it more than me.”  
  
Jasmin steps closer and his muscles tighten—he feels like a victim of Medusa. She takes it; their fingers brush together in the process. “ _Vielen dank, Herr Jones_.”  
  
“ _Danke schön_. And... no need to be polite, Jasmin, I'm no gentleman like my dad is. You can call me Alfred, or Al. Either is good with me... or anything you come up with.”  
  
She chuckles, “It's _bitte schön_ , sweetheart.”  
  
Alfred's cheeks become impossibly redder. “R-Right...”  
  
She tilts her head cutely. “All due respect, but... for a hero, you seem to be rather... I don't know the English word... maybe... jumpy?”  
  
“Oh, I know what you mean. I'm not usually like this... I'm more...German word... _ausgelassen_. It's just... you're... really pretty... a-and nice.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks at his feet. _I am the LAMEST romantic in the WORLD._  
  
“ _W-Wirklich? Nein... ich bin schön nicht._ ” She says it as if it's normal.  
  
He blinks. “I know you Germans don't accept compliments right away, but don't go saying you aren't pretty! I won't let that slide! Here.” He gets up on the wing and pats the place next to him. “Sit here.” He holds his hand out. She hesitates, but takes his hand and he lifts her up as if she weighs an ounce. She notices that he's much taller than her — she really didn't think about it before. Jasmin observes the candy bar he gave her. Tapping her hand, he secures her attention. His eyes clasp hers and he beams.  
  
After a few seconds transpire, she asks, “W-Why are you staring?”  
  
“Like I said: you're pretty—no—beautiful. _Du bist sehr hübsch_.”  
  
“ _N-Nein_... stop lying...”  
  
That hits him like a flying bullet...the kind that explode in your chest. Remembering some things France told him (don't worry, they're not sexual), he decides to put them into action. He snakes his hand around hers and holds it up to his mouth. He pecks it. “Yes, you are. The one lying here is you.” He smiles. “Stop lying to yourself, Jasmin.”  
  
Red light bulbs shine brightly through her cheeks. She studies their intertwined hands, then moves to his face. It looks so soft, and of the same tone as hers — peachy.  His smile seems to lighten the growing darkness around them and reflects the light of the setting sun. Alfred's glasses rest upon the bridge of his nose almost perfectly, and his ocean hues stare into hers with no sign of lies within the vast seas of his hypnotizing orbs. His eyebrows lower slightly. “What's wrong?”  
  
“...Nothing now, I guess,” she finds herself saying. He smiles calmly and turns his head to watch the sunset. She copies his actions.  
  
“Wanna go for a ride? I'd bet it be a lot better from up there.”  
  
She nods.  
  
~  
  
The sun's rays shimmer against the tranquil winds waving through their hair. Within seconds, they're seeing the setting star through the pink, purple, orange and yellow clouds — Jasmin has never seen anything like it. All of the colors, the dimming lights... is that what perfection is? She looks at the back of Alfred's head (which is all she can see of him). No... that's what perfection is... a man so bold, but yet so vulnerable, like he showcased by all the blushing and simple compliments that mean the world to her, then his boldness to invite her up into the clouds. Even if it was merely her looks that attracted him to her, that's enough for her to feel special, because she's pretty enough to render him stumbling over his words and blushing like a maniac. He's special... and a keeper.  
  
“Hey!” he breaks her from her thoughts. “How do you like it up here, dudette?”  
  
“It's absolutely beautiful! What about you? What are your thoughts?”  
  
“Bah. This lame old sunset isn't as beautiful as you.” He enjoys showering her with praises.  
  
“... _D-Danke_...”  
  
 _Whoa! She's accepting my compliment! Awesome!_  
  
  
After a few moments, Alfred lands the plane and assists her in getting out of the passenger's seat. She thanks him kindly, and he replies, “ _Nichts zu danken_.”  
  
Jasmin opens the candy bar and snaps off a piece. “Here... we're sharing it.”  
  
A crooked smile appears on his face as he takes it. “Thanks.”  
  
A voice erupts through the radio. “BLOODY HELL, ALFRED!! WHERE ARE YOU?!”  
  
The summoned nearly falls of the wing of the plane there which him and his new friend are sitting. “GEEZ, dude! You don't have to scream!”  
  
“You said you were going to clean your goggles, and an hour and a half later you haven't returned to base. I've been trying to get through to you for the past twenty minutes.”  
  
A new voice purrs, “You had him worried sick!”  
  
“GIVE ME MY DAMN RADIO, YOU PISS-FLAVORED BAGUETTE!!” Silence. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, ANYWAY?!”  
  
Alfred simply laughs. “You two are weird as fuck, man.”  
  
“Who are they?” Jasmin inquires.  
  
Pushing up his glasses, the blond answers, “The pissed off British guy is my adoptive father, England. The French dude is his frenemy, France.”  
  
“They sound interesting.”  
  
“You have literally _no idea_.”  
  
She giggles.  
  
“Finally,” Arthur murmurs through the speaker, “I really don't care what you're doing, Alfred. Get your arse back to base before I use magic to get you back here myself.” The line goes dead.  
  
The American sighs, then pouts, “I guess I gotta go now...” His face lights up as he meets her gaze, “I hope to see ya', soon, Jasmin!” He hops into the pilot's seat, putting his necessary gear on.  
  
She smiles calmly after sliding off of the wing. “ _Auf Weidersehen,_ Alfred.”  
  
As he waves again then takes off, the German state takes another bite of her chocolate bar.   
  
_I like him_.  
  



End file.
